The air is frigid. Raindrops fall heavily from the sky in a cold drizzle. The Moose River seems to be upside down, above me, but wait… No, I am the one upside down, above it. Are these ropes, bound tightly around me, my mouth gagged?
“Awake already? Good, I want you conscious to the end.” Arabella stands on the sandy river bank, a pair of clippers in her hands.
“You know, John was a great man, an even greater brother,” she looks down with tears spilling from her eyes, “Did you know he was interning at the local children’s ward? He wanted to become a pediatrician, just loved children, ya know?”
Wiping her eyes, she looks away,” God, I loved him…” she whispers.
How did she find out? I was so careful, did she take my leave as a confession? I attempt to release myself from the bonds, but stop as she notices my movements.
“No more talking,” she says coldly and walks over to me through the waist deep water, something sharp glitters in her dainty hand. I struggle more.
Surprise and disbelief fliters through my panic-stricken mind when she raises the blade over me. What ever could she be- Again, and again, and again she slashes me. Each cut releases moans from me, but dreadful animalistic shrieks from her.
slice, Shriek… slice, Shriek…, slice, Shriek…
The world is now made of three things: Blood, pain, and the ever growing cries of a mad woman bent on replacing skin with steel. At last, covered in my gruesome fluids and fatigued, she sits heavily on the wet ground.
She cries. I can no longer see, for the blood long ago blinded me. Now she rises, again with the knife in her hand and I prepare for another attack, if there is anything left to attack, yet she is not cutting me. Oh no, she is cutting the ropes. Does she plan to drown me, anything but that, anyhting at all. Don't drown me! Don't drown me!
My kicks are irrational, but I am irrational at this point. The rope snaps and I am plunging in.
Uhhh!! The water is freezing, yet it is easing my pain somewhat. I keep my breath, and can see Arabella through the cobalt water, everything a rippled blur. She is holding something… A bag…? A black bag. She pulls something out teeth set in a hideous grin.
What is it? A journal…my journal.
YOU ARE READING
Misconceptions : Gothic Short Story
HorrorZach Morder is your average boss working an average job, or is he? Convinced he is in love with his employee Arabella Shade, Morder allows himself to fall into a web of misconceptions and inevitably gets his hands a tad dirty while he's at it.
